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Chapter 10 - WRWB - 9 ( CHAOS II )

" Get out of my sight, Casimir. " Her words were sharp, but her voice wavered with exhaustion.

" If you cannot understand your mother, then let me suffer alone. But remember this I slapped you not out of cruelty, but out of desperation. I wanted you to see. " She turned to him slowly, eyes glistening with unshed tears. " Loyalty is not enough, my child, when the man you serve is no longer himself. You saw it you felt it. . . He is lost in madness. . . And if we do nothing, he will drag us down with him. " Her expression softened for a fleeting instant.

" Forgive me, my son. I love you and that is why I must protect you, and your rightful place. " Her voice sank to a whisper, almost pleading. " Do not mistake my anger for hatred. Every word, every act is all for you. "

Casimir stood frozen where she left him, her words echoing in his mind like the slow toll of a funeral bell. He wanted to speak-to defend his father, to plead for reason-but no sound came out. The sting on his cheek pulsed with each heartbeat, and behind his eyes swelled a confusion he could not name.

" Was she right? " he thought.

" Mother... " he began softly, but Miliani didn't turn. Her back remained rigid, her silhouette framed by the faint light spilling through the curtains.

" Go, Casimir, " she said without looking at him. " Son, leave... Let us not go on with this dispute. Things will only make sense to you once you've seen them. " The tone of finality in her voice silenced any protest. He bowed his head and obeyed, his steps hesitant, the sound of his boots fading into the corridors.

When the door shut behind him, the Empress stood still for a long moment, listening to the quiet. Then, with a steady exhale, she moved to her writing table.

She took out a sealed drawer hidden beneath layers of silken cloth and unlocked it with a small golden key she wore around her neck. Inside were hidden letters marked with family crests the sigils of once powerful houses once loyal to her bloodline.

Her hand hovered above them, the candlelight casting sharp shadows across her face. Her expression hardened, the last traces of fear turning into something far colder.

" So, it begins again, " she whispered, her voice soft but edged with steel.

Her gaze drifted upward, as if she could see through the stone walls to the Emperor's chamber beyond.

" Castillion... you've done this before, haven't you? " she murmured, addressing the absent man by name, her tone trembling between accusation and loathing. " But I am not as naïve as she was. I will not let you hurt me or my child. "

Her hand clenched into a fist, the sharp bite of her nails carving crescents into her skin until a thin line of crimson welled up. For a moment, she watched the blood glimmer against the candlelight-then, with deliberate grace, she pressed her thumb to the wax seal of the letter, smearing her own mark upon it.

The scent of ink and blood mingled, sealing not just a message, but a declaration.

" I once poisoned your mind with words, " she whispered, her voice trembling with equal parts regret and pride. " I built the very illusions you now drown in. But I will not fall into the same snare I once set, Castillion. " Her reflection in the window stared back at her, pale and regal, her greenish blue eyes aflame with old bitterness.

The palace was silent when the Empress drew open the window. A cold breath of night slipped through the chamber, stirring the curtains and dimming the candlelight.

She reached into the shadowed alcove beside her writing desk and withdrew a small silver cage, draped in black velvet. Inside, a sleek raven stirred its eyes glinting like shards of onyx.

" Awake, little herald, " Miliani whispered, her tone soft yet commanding. " Tonight, you will carry more than words. "

She placed one of the sealed letters into a narrow leather tube bound at the bird's leg. There was no signature, no royal emblem only a faint symbol pressed into the wax: a crescent veiled by a serpent's coil.

The mark of her hidden allies.

The raven tilted its head as if it understood. When she released it into the night, its wings opened wide, catching the pale moonlight before vanishing into the darkness beyond the gardens.

One by one, she repeated the act. Each bird raven, kestrel, and dove vanished toward different corners of the empire, bearing her silent command to houses that had once bowed to her crest.

When the last bird disappeared into the horizon, Miliani stood still, her gown rippling faintly in the wind. Her eyes followed the dark sky, unblinking.

******

Empress Miliani entered her chamber once more, the echo of her heels faint against the marble floor. The night air that had carried her messengers still lingered, cold and sharp. With a swift motion, she closed the balcony doors and drew the heavy velvet curtains shut, sealing the room in silence.

But beyond the balcony, the night did not sleep.

In the ancient oak that towered near the Empress's chambers, a shadow moved-a figure cloaked in darkness, face hidden beneath a hood of black. The faint glow of emberlight flickered between the leaves as he lifted a small copper vial. Smoke rose from its thin, deliberate, and fleeting.

A signal.

Farther in the distance, among the palace ramparts, another shadow shifted an archer, waiting. The soft creak of the bowstring cut through the quiet like a whisper.

The arrow flew soundlessly through the night sky, slicing across the moonlight.

High above the palace towers, the raven that carried Miliani's sealed message gave a brief, startled cry then fell, its wings folding as it spiraled down into the mist. The message tube shattered upon impact, its wax seal breaking against the stones.

Then the figure in the tree lowered his signal torch and disappeared into the darkness, as silent as he had come.

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The carriage halted before the grand steps of the Crown Prince's Palace, its wheels grinding softly against the marble path. The royal guard moved swiftly, opening the carriage door with precision.

Casimir stepped out, his expression unreadable beneath the faint glow of the torches. The night air was cold, sharp against his face. His young butler stood waiting, bowing low.

" Welcome back, Your Highness. " the butler said quietly.

Casimir didn't reply. His jaw tightened as he walked past, boots echoing in the silent hall. The servants bowed in a line as he passed through the corridors, but he gave no acknowledgment-only the steady rhythm of his steps and the distant hum of wind through the high windows.

When he reached his office, he pushed the doors open. The chamber was drenched in darkness.

He didn't bother for light. Instead, he loosened the upper buttons of his uniform and dropped onto the sofa, leaning back with a weary sigh. His hands covered his face for a long moment, his breath unsteady.

The silence pressed against him-thick, suffocating. Then came a soft knock.

" Your Highness? " It was his butler again, hesitant... But Casimir didn't answer.

The door creaked open, and the young man stepped inside. When he saw the Crown Prince sitting in the dark, shoulders slumped, he moved quickly to the candles on the wall. One by one, the flames flickered to life, chasing away the shadows.

" Forgive me, Your Highness, " the butler said gently. " I thought you might want some light. "

Casimir opened his eyes slowly. The dim glow revealed the faint bruise still visible on his temple a mark of his father's wrath. His expression was hollow, lost somewhere between exhaustion and despair.

" Tell me, Harold, " he said at last, his voice low and hoarse, " what is the difference between loyalty and obedience? "

The young butler hesitated, the question catching him off guard. The candles flickered, their light bending across the room like wavering thoughts.

" I… do not know, Your Highness, " Harold admitted softly.

Casimir just nodded at his young butler's answer, his expression unreadable. He rose from the sofa with slow, deliberate movements and walked toward the tall arched window. The night outside stretched endless and heavy, the moon pale behind drifting clouds.

" Leave me alone for a while, Harold, " he said quietly, without turning. " I want to be alone and think. "

The butler hesitated at first, worry flickering in his eyes. " Your Highness… "

Casimir raised a hand slightly, a silent command.

Harold bowed deeply. " As you wish, Your Highness. "

The door closed behind him with a soft click, leaving Casimir alone in the dimly lit chamber.

For a long moment, he simply stood there, his reflection faintly mirrored in the glass the bruise on his temple, the weary eyes, the weight of a crown not yet his but already crushing him.

" Loyalty… obedience… " he murmured, watching the distant stars. " And soon, betrayal. "

Casimir leaned his forehead against the cold glass, his breath clouding the window. The night outside seemed endless — a reflection of the turmoil churning within him.

" Myrrh Celestia… " he whispered, his voice trembling with a mix of confusion and anger.

" What did you do to my mother to make her like this? " His reflection stared back at him pale, bruised, and weary.

" Ever since the Celestria Palace burned down… everything has fallen into chaos. Was what my mother said correct? " He paused, his voice lowering. " Or has she simply been carried away by her emotions… again? "

He closed his eyes, but the memories pressed against his thoughts sharp and vivid. The confrontation in the Emperor's chamber replayed before him like a haunting vision:

The thunder in his father's voice. The Empress's desperate outrage.

And then — her.

Princess Myrrh Celestia, bowing low with perfect grace, her face hidden behind that mask of sorrow and innocence. Yet, in that single fleeting glance as she curtseyed, he saw it the faint curve of a smile she tried to hide.

Casimir's breath caught. His fists tightened at his sides.

" That smile… " he muttered, his heart pounding. " You were enjoying it, weren't you? "

The words still hung in the air when a sudden flutter broke the silence. A shadow swept across the floor a black raven, its wings slicing through the pale moonlight as it landed upon the balcony rail.

Casimir froze. " A raven? " he whispered.

The bird tilted its head, eyes like polished onyx fixed on him.

He moved quickly, unfastening the latch and pulling the balcony door open.

" Come here, " he said softly.

As if understanding, the raven took flight again, circling once before landing lightly upon his outstretched hand. Its claws gripped his finger firmly, and he saw a small scroll tied to its leg with a dark crimson thread.

Casimir's pulse quickened. He closed the door and drew the curtains, shutting out the night. The chamber dimmed to gold and shadow.

He carefully untied the thread and unrolled the parchment. The faint shimmer of wax caught his eye a seal unlike any other.

His brows drew together. " What is this… a crescent. . . hidden serpent seal? "

The wax cracked softly as he turned it in the candlelight.

" Who wrote this…? " he whispered and then, as memory struck, the color drained from his face.

His mother's voice echoed in his mind her trembling hands, her burning eyes, her whisper: We must act before he destroys us.

" Mother… " Casimir breathed, horror and confusion tightening his throat.

******

" How was your spying? Did you get anything? " A person disguised in a black cloak asked, their voice low and measured, barely louder than the rustling of the trees around them.

The other figure, also cloaked and hooded, bowed deeply before answering.

" Yes, my lord. The raven never reached its destination. The seal bore the mark of the Crescent Hidden in Serpent Seal. "

The cloaked figure inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment, his gloved hand slipping into his chest pocket to retrieve a sealed letter.

He passed it to the spy with quiet authority.

" Before you give the Empress's letter to the Emperor, " he murmured, his voice low and edged with menace, " make sure he reads this one first. "

His eyes flicked upward to the heavens, as if reading omens in the stars.

" Ensure that His Majesty reads it alone, " he continued. " No one else must be present no attendants, no guards. Only him. "

" Yes, my Lord, " the spy replied, bowing his head lower.

" Be gone. "

At the command, the spy dissolved into mist, fading from sight like smoke drawn into the night wind. Silence followed—thick and heavy, broken only by the soft rustle of the cloaked figure's garment.

******

Emperor Castillion sat in the middle of his bed, the book opened in his hands, although his eyes had long strayed from its pages. The golden light from the candelabra glinted on his tired face, tracing the lines of sleeplessness that had deepened over the past nights.

Beside him, his old butler stood silently, hands crossed behind his back—patient, watchful.

Castillion turned another page without reading it. He sighed, the sound low and weary.

" Seraphina, " he murmured under his breath,

" are you still watching over me? " He frowned immediately after saying it, shaking his head.

" No… it's not appropriate, " he muttered, forcing a bitter smile. " Not anymore. "

He closed the book and rubbed his temple, his fingers dragging through his hair in restless frustration. The weight of memory pressed heavily on him—of her voice, her eyes, the way she used to look at him before.

The butler remained silent, pretending to be deaf to what he heard and blind to what he saw. Loyalty had taught him when to speak and when silence served best.

He wanted to say something, anything, to ease the heaviness that had settled over his master. But fear restrained him; the Emperor disliked being pitied, and the wrong words could draw his wrath.

He had served Castillion since boyhood—back when he was still a prince full of laughter and ambition. Never had he seen him like this: restless, distracted, haunted by the dead. He knew what his thoughts wanted to say but he couldn't say a word.

butler porter's gaze lowered. He dared not think ill of his sovereign, yet a quiet unease stirred in his chest. Something unseen weighed upon the Emperor.

So he stood still, his thoughts unspoken, as the candlelight danced and shadows lengthened across the chamber walls.

" Tell me, Porter, " Castillion said suddenly, breaking the silence. "What are you thinking about? You look… deep in thought."

Butler Porter flinched, startled by the question. His eyes widened briefly before he lowered his gaze, the habit of years of discipline returning at once.

He stepped forward, then sank to one knee, head bowed. " Your Majesty, " he said softly, " I beg your forgiveness if I have disturbed your peace. "

Castillion regarded him for a moment—his expression unreadable. The flickering candlelight painted sharp shadows across his face, catching the faint glint of weariness in his eyes.

" You did not disturb me, " he said quietly, " It's the silence that does. "

Butler Porter kept his head low, unsure whether to respond. He could still feel the weight of his Emperor's gaze.

Castillion exhaled softly, shaking his head. A faint click of his tongue broke the stillness.

" Tell me, Porter, " he said at last, his voice was low but firm. " In your eyes… am I mad? Because of what I'm saying? " The question hung in the air like a blade.

Porter froze. His breath caught in his throat as he lifted his eyes—only for a moment—to the Emperor's face. There was no jest in Castillion's expression, no mask of authority. Only raw.

" Your Majesty… " Porter began, but his words faltered. He had never been more startled; in all his years of service, he had seen the Emperor enraged, triumphant, even broken. . . But never uncertain.

The old butler's heart trembled. He lowered his gaze again, afraid that whatever he said next might either comfort his Emperor… or condemn him.

" HAHAHAHAHA! "

Castillion's laughter erupted suddenly, echoing through the chamber like the crack of thunder. The sound was sharp—too loud, too long—and it made the candles tremble in their holders.

He leaned forward, eyes glinting with something wild, and pointed his index finger at Butler Porter, chuckling between breaths.

" My question was simple, " he said, still laughing, " but the expression on your face—ah, it's full of fear! "

Porter remained frozen, his knees still bent, unsure whether to bow deeper. The laughter rolled through the room, fading only when Castillion's smile slowly dissolved into silence.

The Emperor's eyes, once bright with amusement, now darkened with something else—something unsteady.

Porter's pulse quickened. His mouth went dry as he struggled to form words.

" Y–Your Majesty, " he stammered, lowering his head so deeply that his forehead nearly touched the floor. " Forgive me… I did not mean to offend you. " His voice trembled despite his effort to steady it.

" You are not mad, sire. You are burdened… by grief and by memory, that is all. " Castillion said nothing. His gaze bore down on the old servant, cold and unreadable. The silence stretched painfully between them.

Porter dared not lift his eyes. He could feel the Emperor's stare like a weight pressing upon his back. Sweat gathered at his temples, and his hands tightened against the marble floor.

Then, at last, the Emperor exhaled through his nose, leaning back against the headboard.

" Burdened… yes, " he murmured, half to himself. " A fine word for madness. " The tone was calm, but it chilled Butler Porter more.

Castillion looked sharply toward Butler Porter, his eyes burning with restless intensity.

" Answer me, honestly Porter, " he demanded, his voice low but edged with steel. " You saw how the Empress and the Crown Prince behaved. Tell me the truth—do you think they will betray me? " The butler froze. His heart pounded so loudly as if the Emperor could hear it.

To be continued.....

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